Betrayal of the Body
by amberpire
Summary: Robin wished Slade wasn't so cruel – the Titan would have preferred blades slicing his eyes, electric volts, scalding steam – anything but Slade's body pleasing his. This was the worst torture. ;Robin/Slade;


[AN: I do not own Teen Titans. I have just recently discovered that I really, really like Sladin. Guilty pleasures, anyone? Hope you guys enjoy. **Please review!**]

**Betrayal of the Body**

Robin had opened his mouth to protest, words clear on the front of his skull. He could almost feel them they were so bold. The instant he had felt (Slade was rarely heard – he was stealthy) the villain at the edge of his bed, the Titan had prepared words to shout out. But then Slade's chest was against his and the words were lost, forgotten as he exhaled a shaky breath. And then the man's hands were snaking into his hair and maybe Robin didn't know why he was protesting anymore because his body could think of no better place to be than in the arms of the enemy.

His body had seemed to have taken control lately. A part of Robin was ashamed of himself. Giving into lust by itself was bad enough – but the fact that the object of his fantasies, the center of his desires, was _Slade_ all but killed him; his sworn enemy, his greatest foe, the man who Robin hated the most. Slade was evil, cunning, a psychopath: the bad guy. Robin knew that. He did. But his body seemed to forget from to time to time, especially when Slade was flush against him like he was now.

Slade's hot hands were roaming over his bare chest. It was dark in Robin's room, but he could just make out the outline of Slade's mask hovering over him.

"Little bird," the man cooed, and Robin could have sworn he felt electricity shooting through his veins, all the small hairs on his nimble body rising at the deep tone. This wasn't right. God, it wasn't right. It was irritating enough that Slade managed to get inside the Tower, but the fact that two words _Little bird, _could set him on fire was infuriating. The teenager gasped as the man's nails arched to graze his bare skin, a conflicting mixture of pleasure and pain assaulting his system.

"It seems you have missed me, Robin," the masked man purred, and his face was so close, and Robin could only see the one eye that held an impossible look of knowledge and power, as if he could read the Titan's mind. Not that he needed to read the boy's mind; Robin's body was doing enough talking as it was.

"S-stop," Robin managed, though barely. His brain wasn't so much a functional organ anymore, just a melting lump of muscle sloshing inside his skull. He was clinging with desperate fingers to the sheets below him while, in a similar fashion, trying to hold on to coherent thoughts. He was supposed to be stoic and clear-minded, always. It was almost easy to remain alert and lucid in battle, yet as soon as Slade assaulted him with sex appeal and those God damned hot hands, Robin was putty.

"Stubborn," Slade commented, the tip of his fingers teasing with Robin's shorts and fuck, the teen's heart was crashing so hard against his ribs he was sure Slade could hear it, could almost feel the smirk behind the mask. "Some things never change."

Robin gasped again, which slowly died off into a beaten whimper of need when Slade's hand disappeared down his shorts, teasing, fluttering. The Titan was all but screaming in desire; Slade enjoyed this, he knew it. Robin wished Slade wasn't so cruel – the Titan would have preferred blades slicing his eyes, electric volts, scalding steam – anything but Slade's body pleasing his. This was the worst torture.

"Why do you keep d-doing this?" Wow, a question. Robin was surprised speech was something he was still capable of performing at this point, especially now that Slade was removing the lower part of his mask with a click, wet lips finding his neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" Slade's voice was calm and cool, impossibly collected, his thoughts smooth compared to the positive whirlwind of the boy beneath him. Slade seemed to have memorized every sensitive spot on Robin's body, his tongue forming a pattern of circles on the flushed skin of his neck. Robin arched toward the sensation – why lie? His body would only betray him. "I didn't think so," Slade chuckled, shifting his lips to ghost over Robin's jaw line. The masked man smirked down at the trembling teen, slowly slipping his hands out of Robin's shorts. Robin tried to resist – he knew what was coming – but he was still weak with shameful desire, and Slade's hands found Robin's wrists, pinning them over his head.

"Don't," Robin pleaded, eyes wide behind the mask he always wore. "Please." His voice is high, strained. This was the worst part, the one that nearly brought him to tears of desperation. "Slade-"

Slade squeezed his hands tightly, bringing forth a whimper from the boy beneath him. Funny how Robin could slam into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour only to get right back up, yet, the slightest grip of Slade, and he was all but passing out. "Why do you continue to resist? Your body is simply screaming for me." His face began to descend, slowly closing the already short distance between them. "I know you absolutely crave me when I'm not here."

Robin closed his eyes against that solid truth. "Lies-ah!" Slade's knee had found its way between Robin's legs in an almost caressing fashion, silencing any words the Titan might have wanted to say.

Slade was a mere inch from Robin's face, his lone eye boring into the other male's with a growing smirk of domination. "You and I both know it's true, little bird."

"I h-hate you." That was not a lie. Robin hated him more than anything he could think of, but the thought of Slade no longer being here – of actually defeating him – squeezed his heart so hard he could feel the pulse in his toes.

"I know." And then Slade's lips were molding against Robin's with pressure and the Titan whined, the sound caught in his throat. His body squirmed with painful delight; kissing the enemy – kissing the enemy and _enjoying _it – he was forever soiled. This was Slade's worst torture. Slade's tongue slid along Robin's lips, urging them to part. Uniting their tongues in a twisted, dreadful oral dance, Robin whined again. Slade tasted like betrayal and wrong, evil, and ecstasy. The villain gave Robin's wrist a squeeze before pulling his lips away. The two men gasped, chests shuddering for air. Robin had been reduced to a shuddering mass of a person, the fight burned out of him in that kiss.

Slade's lips curled into a slow, triumphant smirk. "My little bird."


End file.
